


Between a Wall and a Hard Place

by Mossyrock



Series: Ineffable Husbands Bingo [17]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale isn't as angelic as he seems, Dirty Thoughts, Horny Angel, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Smut, Wall Push Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21625261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossyrock/pseuds/Mossyrock
Summary: Aziraphale hadn’t expected to be roughly pinned against the wall. But he's not complaining. It sends his thoughts down a very unangelic path.My take on the wall push scene. Because everybody needs to do one.For my Ineffable Husbands bingo prompt - smut.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Husbands Bingo [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1476251
Comments: 7
Kudos: 209





	Between a Wall and a Hard Place

Aziraphale hadn’t expected to be roughly pinned against the wall of the convent/battleground. Truly, he hadn’t. He’d just meant to tell Crowley how nice and sweet he could be, which he happened to think was a very good thing. 

But apparently Crowley disagreed because he was currently pressed against Aziraphale from head to foot, angrily hissing at him. 

Strangely, Aziraphale didn’t feel in the least bit scared being suddenly manhandled. Startled, yes. But not scared. He knew he probably should be. A demon had him surrounded and in a vulnerable – and compromising – position. But Crowley hadn’t pushed him _hard_. Not hard enough to hurt him. Just enough to make a point. 

He knew if Crowley truly wanted to hurt him, he could. It would be so easy. Aziraphale didn’t even think he’d be able to fight back. Fighting wasn’t in his nature (despite being handed a flaming sword on almost his first day of existence and told to fight the influence of evil) and the idea of hurting Crowley... He shuddered to think of it. Crowley could do whatever he wanted to him and Aziraphale would be powerless. Yet he was thoroughly unafraid of him. 

He trusted him. 

He loved him. 

He _wanted_ him. 

Crowley was still berating him, but Aziraphale wasn’t listening. His mind was elsewhere. Somewhere his mind went when he was alone and lonely. Somewhere he’d tried so hard not to go for so long. But a few decades ago, he’d lost that battle. 

Because Aziraphale couldn’t truthfully say he was disappointed by this turn of events. He still had the adrenaline pulsing through his veins from the shock of being grabbed and his heart was racing, but slowly he’d become aware of other things.

The sensation of Crowley pressed against him was intoxicating. He was somehow even more stunning close up. He was incredibly beautiful – a fact Aziraphale had known for a long, long time, but not acknowledged for the majority. And not just his physical form, though that was handsome too, with it’s sharp angles and luscious hair. 

To Aziraphale he was beautiful because he was intelligent, witty, and not a particularly good – or perhaps he was too good to be a successful – demon. He was selfless and generous and yes, _nice_. He might have smelled of ozone and sulphur like all of Hell's denizens, but he also smelled of rich dark chocolate and freshly cut grass on a hot summer's day. It was a smell that Aziraphale had come to adore. And he was warm, so warm and not at all as bony as Aziraphale had imagined.

In fact, the whole thing was rather enjoyable. It would’ve been more enjoyable if Crowley wasn’t angry at him. But unfortunately, he was. 

Aziraphale felt like he was in metaphorical Heaven and Hell – or what he imagined Hell felt like, since he’d never asked (it was a sore subject) – all at once. He wanted so much that he could never have. It was all just a hairs breadth away. So tantalizingly close, but so very far.

In the privacy of his own mind, he’d experienced this scenario a million times. Not this exact scenario, of course, but similar scenarios – having Crowley squashed against him. But usually those thoughts involved far fewer clothes. And different settings, like a bedroom or the bookshop. Aziraphale had very specific fantasises involving almost every inch of the shop. Bending Crowley over his desk, writhing together on the couch, pressed up against a bookshelf… His mind had wandered every time Crowley had joined him for drinks in his little back room. Sometimes, when he was particularly drunk, he’d had to clench his fists to stop himself from reaching out and pulling him close. 

The thoughts he had sometimes were far from pure and angelic. He had the soft, sweet thoughts of wooing and romance of course. He was a being of Love. 

But he also had the darker, more carnal thoughts. He’d tried so hard to fight it, but it had been a long time since he'd let himself feel any guilt or shame about them. What harm were a few naughty thoughts? He’d never act on them. 

Right now, he imagined a new scenario. 

Backed up against the wall, he took his arms, that were currently hanging loosely by his side and wrapped them around Crowley, so that like Aziraphale, he was trapped and at Aziraphale’s mercy.

Crowley cut off his tirade mid sentence, before asking, “What are you doing?” sounding confused and breathless. 

Where they were pressed together, Aziraphale could feel his heart rate spike. He’d made the usually cool, calm and collected Crowley flustered. It gave him a thrill of achievement and excitement, spurring him on.

Their noses brushed, which he used to nudge Crowley’s head to the side, before tentatively pressing their lips together. Crowley’s lips were soft and warm and best of all, they followed Aziraphale’s lead. When he pushed harder, Crowley yielded, letting Aziraphale set the pace. And he took full advantage, pulling him as close as possible and cataloguing all the delicious sounds he made. 

They parted slightly, panting and dazed. 

“Wha..?” Crowley slurred. He looked as shocked as Aziraphale had felt, being suddenly grabbed. And like Aziraphale he wasn’t fighting, wasn’t scared or trying to escape. 

Trusting that Crowley wasn’t going to run, he let his arms relax and let his hands drift down to cup Crowley’s bottom. For such a skinny demon, his arse was rather a handful – in more ways than one. Not that Aziraphale was complaining. 

Aziraphale had always wondered if Crowley, like him, had taken a human form in _every_ way. He was more than happy to discover that he had. The hard feeling of his erect cock pressed into Aziraphale’s was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He moaned and felt Crowley twitch in response. He was unconsciously writhing against him, urging him on. 

His lips were red and shiny, tempting Aziraphale to lean back in. He wanted to resist, like he’d resisted for millennia, but he was too weak. Now he’d had a taste, he couldn’t stop. Who was he to resist the original tempter? 

This time, he wasn’t gentle. Crowley gasped against his mouth as Aziraphale squeezed his butt, making him chuckle low in his chest. He used his hands on Crowley’s arse to rub them together, harder and faster. It was too much, too rough. It made them both gasp and break apart again. 

He felt as if he was on fire from wanting him so desperately. 

“Ahhh... Angel, pleassse,” Crowley hissed. 

“Tell me what you want, my darling,” He whispered in his ear, teasing the lobe, sucking it into his mouth. He released it with a pop and continued, “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

Crowley melted against him with tiny, breathy sighs. Aziraphale felt like he could stay here and tease him for eternity, but he was becoming increasingly desperate for more. 

Somehow Crowley’s pants had come undone and Aziraphale was stroking the long, hard length of him with unrelenting strokes, while rubbing himself against one of Crowley’s legs. They were both shaking, moaning and losing control. 

Nothing had ever felt so divine. 

“I want... I want...” Crowley was panting. His eyes were wide, but glazed over. His hair was a sweaty mess and he bit his lip, trying not to cry out. Aziraphale knew he was close. He kept the pace, wanting to see him fall apart. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” A new voice interrupted. Aziraphale ignored it. 

“Sorry to break up an intimate moment.” The voice spoke again. Aziraphale was becoming annoyed. It didn’t sound like they were sorry at all. 

The Crowley in front of him wavered, between the flushed, lustful temptation and the angry demon he’d been moments ago. Aziraphale clutched onto the illusion, desperately holding on, not wanting to let it go. They’d been so close. 

“Can I help you?” Crowley turned his head away, but didn’t release him. 

Aziraphale blinked slowly and the fantasy fell away completely, leaving behind an ache and regret. He looked one more time, memorizing the feelings and sensations, before Crowley stepped away.

He shook off the disappointment and straightened his tie with a tiny smirk. He'd revisit that fantasy later, once he was alone. But until then, they had an important job to do. 

Everything else would have to wait. 

**Author's Note:**

> The wall push scene is very telling. If you compare it to how Aziraphale reacts being pushed against the wall later by Uriel, who is supposed to be an angelic ally, he reacts completely differently. 
> 
> Also, Aziraphale's slow, dazed blinks and his reluctance to look away, even after Crowley turns his attention to Sister Mary, shows his mind was definitely somewhere else. 
> 
> He's a naughty angel, but we (and Crowley) love him anyway.


End file.
